


A Waltz at Midnight

by Allison_Wonderland, PhryneFicathon



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-02-26 07:24:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allison_Wonderland/pseuds/Allison_Wonderland, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhryneFicathon/pseuds/PhryneFicathon
Summary: A romantic interlude between lovers on a snowy London night





	A Waltz at Midnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leafingbookstea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafingbookstea/gifts).



> Because of what the prompt suggests, I chose to write this without dialog. I hope you enjoy!

_Music is love in search of a word._

– Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette

* * *

 

Jack awoke confused though highly comfortable. It took the work of a moment to discern his surroundings and remember that he was not in Melbourne but rather in London and the bed he was in was not his, but Phryne’s. The bed part had been easy to discern at least. There wasn’t ever a point in his life where his bed was made with silk sheets, though in feeling their caress, he could see the appeal. Jack also realized he was in that big wonderful bed alone.

He sat up and looked around the room. From the moonlight drifting in from the open drapes, he estimated it was just past midnight, not late by most standards but as they had gone to bed before 5… As his eyes adjusted to the ambient light, he saw Phryne standing looking out the window. Quietly he got out of bed and padded towards her. Despite it being winter, neither wore any clothes. By this point, they were more a hindrance than anything else. The clothes he had worn that afternoon and the pajamas he had attempted to don after their first, no wait, their second bout of lovemaking were already wrinkled messes on the floor. Not that he truly minded of course.

Jack wrapped his arms around Phryne from behind, slowly as not to startle her from her reverie. She stiffened slightly but then relaxed into him and he rested his chin on her shoulder. The moon outside was waning but still very bright, a beacon surrounded by clouds and swirling snow. They stood quietly, looking out at the night together and even without speaking, Jack could feel the melancholy in her. He knew why. With the strike of twelve, it had become December twenty-first. Winter solstice; her birthday. And unfortunately because of that, the sad reminder of Janey.

His ship had docked that afternoon, a full three days early. He then had had the privilege of turning up at her doorstep just as she was starting to dress for dinner. He would never forget the image of her, stunned and speechless in the doorway in just her robe. She had pulled him inside and upstairs and dressing for dinner turned into undressing for the duration. They had talked later, snug together under the covers between kisses. He remembered how she had expressed how glad he was there early and as much as she loved her birthday in the past, dark thoughts intruded too deeply now. He would keep her grounded, just as he had so many times before. It was not a task that Jack took lightly and he cherished the trust she placed in him. After that, they had drifted off to sleep.

Both lost in their own thoughts, Jack suddenly felt her shiver. The fire had died down to barely coals and the wind had started to pick up, throwing a chill into the room. Debating on whether to add another log to the fire, out of the corner of his eye he spotted a musical box on the mantle. Feeling silly and suitably romantic, he untangled himself from Phryne and opened the box so that a tinkling waltz filled the room. Jack turned back to her, bowed, and offered her his hand. His gesture had the desired effect; Phryne curtseyed to him and grinned, the sadness in her eyes replaced with a spark. He drew her into his arms and they began to move as one to the music, flowing easily from figure to figure just as they had that day at the Grand.

At first, dancing without clothes seemed rather odd and he felt more exposed than he would have liked. But as they moved together, he forgot they were naked. He forgot everything but the feeling of her in his arms and the look in her eyes. It was an exquisite thing, how comfortable they already were with each other’s bodies. It wasn’t sexual even though their bare forms touched and parted but a true metaphysical connection. They looked into each other's eyes and just let the music wash over them. Words were unnecessary, the music and the dance said it all; even separate, they were one.

The waltz began to slow as the box wound down and so did they, swaying softly as the last notes died away. They still didn’t speak, locked in one another’s eyes. Jack gently tucked a stray hair behind her ear and Phryne nuzzled into the palm of his hand. Jack blinked back tears; he had never experienced a moment quite like this. It was quiet and lovely and he felt such a connection to her beyond anything else. He stroked her back gently and they locked eyes again. In that instant, the atmosphere shifted from spiritual to sensual.

Phryne grasped the hand he had resting on her hip and drew him back to bed. Their fingers entwined as he came to rest on the rumpled sheets, her on top of him, tangled together much as they had been moments before. Every part of him touched every part of her and it still wasn’t enough. A small shift, a slide, and Phryne sank onto him with a sigh. Their dance continued to a beat only they could hear, an ageless rhythm that swept them both up into a silent symphony. They did not speak or even moan as their hips stuttered together but as Phryne clenched around him, she gave the softest of exhales that was the most exquisite sound he had ever heard.


End file.
